The surgery went off without a hitch under Dr. Lahey’s skilled hands. Stiles spent a few weeks in recovery, her body healing and swelling into something beyond human—more than a goddess, a walking wet dream engineered for sin. Her tits, already massive, were now enormous double-H cups, heavy and round, straining against every top with puffy pink nipples that poked like beacons. Her ass ballooned thicker, two perfect globes that jiggled with the slightest movement, clapping softly when she walked. And her pussy lips? Puffier than ever, fat and swollen, framing her tight pink hole like plush pillows, always glistening as if begging to be touched. Jackson couldn’t keep his hands off her during recovery, fucking her gently at first, then roughly, whispering how her new body would make them billions. “You’re a sex monster now, baby—fans will cum just looking at you.”